Whoopie! What a terrific update! I do so love the joking around the guys in the unit carry on with. Very, very good stuff. That moment with Holt at the end was fantastic... but the golden moment goes to Larsen's description of parents. AWESOME.

Dear Lisa,
I just want you to know that it's all your fault. Yep, all yours. I used to be a very casual fan, and then one day two years ago I stayed up till 3:00 in the morning waiting for Robin to come out of his coma. He still hasn't. Now I'm waiting on this one to have a happy end....which it....will, right? No but seriously, I am a huge fan. You've got a gift girl, don't deprive us!

Dear Lisa,
I used to be a very casual fan, and then one day two years ago I stayed up till 3:00 in the morning waiting for Robin to come out of his coma.

Click to expand...

*laughs*

Oh goodness...I think we ALL stayed up hoping for that!!! And we are still hoping! But if I know Lisa (and I think I do!) she's sure to put us through a few more wringers before she releases that poor young frog...

I'm going to have to reread all of this fic over the Xmas break. I have such a horrible memory. All I can remember is that this is positively my favorite Muppet fanfic out there. So I shall dedicate a day to doing nothing but reading it once Thursday of this week has come and gone!

Once Thursday of this week has come and gone... Well, with a bit of luck, there might be a new chapter or two. Amazing what a little nagging can do sometimes. Anyway, have your hankies ready, folks. (As if you don't automatically prepare the tissues when I'm updating this story... or doing ANY writing, for that matter...)

Kermit had sent a single-line e-mail to everyone in his address book: Please don’t let the kids see this one.

So for the first time since Kermit had gone overseas, Robin was tucked into bed when the show aired. He wasn’t happy about it, but the young frog was considerably outnumbered. The Muppets promised him that they would let him see some of the show the next day… if they didn’t catch him trying to sneak out and watch it tonight. So he reluctantly stayed where he was.

At first, the show didn’t seem so bad. The Muppets watched as Kermit laughed with his unit over the April Fool’s letters they had sent him, which was good to see. They applauded each other for the humor they had provided their leading frog. Then they watched as the Marines prepared for another fight in another town, which wasn’t easy, but it was getting to be routine.

And then everything changed.

They clenched their jaws and wrung their hands as they listened to Larsen’s voice translating the suicide bomber’s words. Kermit was grim and silent, letting the radio do the talking as he stood beside the window where the horrible scene unfolded beneath them.

“I don’t like this,” Fozzie whispered, breaking their unspoken rule of silence during the show.

“He’ll be okay,” Scooter said nervously. “He sent an e-mail.”

And the e-mail had said it would be bad.

They flinched at the sound of gunshots. Some of them screamed as Cogswell went down. But Kermit seemed calm—or at least, he wasn’t panicking—and that was calming for all of them. As Major D. rallied his troops on the radio, the Muppets even began to relax. Surely, the worst had to be over now. It was no wonder why Kermit hadn’t wanted any kids to see this…

But then Major D. said they needed a good shot, and Miss Piggy tensed. “No,” she whispered, and the Major looked at her fiancé. “No!” she whimpered, and she clutched the nearest arm, not caring whose it was.

The Muppets stared at the screen as they realized what was happening.

“No. You gotta be kiddin’ me,” Clifford muttered.

The other Muppets started screaming “No!” at the screen as their frog talked with the Major, but there was nothing they could do.

Alone in his room, Robin heard the shouts. He rolled over in his bed and pressed his cheek against his pillow.

The Muppets fell silent as Kermit picked up the radio to say that he would “take care of it.” They gripped each other’s hands and arms, none of them quite sure who was trying to give comfort and who was trying to receive it.

Fozzie peered through his fingers. He didn’t see the steady green hands preparing a gun, but he did see his best friend trembling.

None of them spoke. More than a few of them forgot to breathe, except for one fraction of a second when their frog said he knew his explosives. They stared at the screen in silence, some of them trembling, some with tears trickling down their cheeks. All they could do now was watch and wait.

They flinched, some of them whimpering, with every shot their frog fired, and they clung to each other as they watched him try to recover from his own actions.

None of them spoke until the commercial break, and even then, it took several moments before any of them found their voices.

“That was awful,” Scooter whispered, letting his head sink into his hands.

Rowlf stood up, maybe to get their attention, or maybe out of restlessness. “We know it’s… not the first time he’s had to shoot at someone,” he said quietly, his voice perhaps a little gruffer than usual. “And we’ve seen the gun on his back ever since he went back over there.”

“But this is different,” Gonzo said miserably.

“They promised he wouldn’t have to shoot at all!” Fozzie wailed.

“I don’t believe it,” Scooter said, still cradling his head in his hands. “I’ve seen it, and I still don’t… I can’t… imagine Kermit with… I mean, holding a…”

Miss Piggy stood up and marched over to pull Scooter to his feet and directly into a tight hug. “Listen, everyone,” she said firmly. “He had to do that. We all saw what happened.”

“It didn’t have to be Kermit,” Floyd objected. “Someone else could have done it.”

“No. It… it had to be Kermie,” Miss Piggy reluctantly sighed. “Do you remember, the first time—when Bob and Craig came here, and thanked him for saving their lives? I talked to them, when they were leaving. They said… they said—Kermie was… the best shot, and the biggest heart, in the whole unit. Because he… When he had to fight, he would—he would shoot at the hands, so they couldn’t hurt anyone…” She whimpered softly, hugged Scooter a little tighter, and took a deep breath. “And that’s just what he did here. And he saved lives—who knows how many lives. Can anyone here deny that?”

No one spoke at first. Then Rowlf shook his head. “He did the best thing he could have done,” he said. “None of us are questioning Kermit. It’s the situation that we don’t like.”

Fozzie miserably shook his head. “But they promised him…”

“They didn’t know this would happen,” Rowlf said sadly. “They tried, Fozzie… but it wasn’t something they could guarantee. Kermit…” He took a deep breath. “Kermit must have known that.”

Gonzo patted Fozzie on the shoulder. Both of them looked more than a little upset… but then, who wasn’t upset?

“We will,” Scooter said firmly, almost desperately, as he straightened up to wipe his eyes. “We always will. He’s Kermit!”

“Of course he’s Kermit,” Fozzie said quietly. “We’ll always be there for him.” He wiped his noes on his tie. “Maybe we should send him some letters. He might… He might need to remember that.”

Rowlf nodded grimly. “He might need to be reminded of that.”

The show came back on, and their eyes strayed towards the television, where a very quiet Kermit sat with his fellow Marines.

“They’ll take care of him, too,” Miss Piggy said softly.

“Yeah… Semper Fi,” Floyd said.

“And his siblings will, too,” Rowlf said.

With this comforting thought in mind, they returned to their seats and settled in to watch the rest of the show.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~​

The day after that episode aired, Maggie the Frog was in a sour, angry mood as she made her way back to the swamp for dinner. The night before, when they had seen the show, there had been tears, lots of tears, from lots of family members… None of them were upset at her big brother or what he had done, but Maggie was angry at the rest of the world—or at least, the rest of the country…

She sighed up at the sky, which was still full of heavy, dark smoke from the attacks on so many oil refineries—some not so very far away from the swamp—earlier in the year. There was no escaping from that fact. And no, those attacks probably wouldn’t have happened if they hadn’t been in the war, and yes, those attacks were hurting the environment, in addition to all the economic repercussions… But it was past time for America to find some more efficient forms of energy anyway, and withdrawing from the war wouldn’t undo anything that had happened.

And she was sick of having everyone blame everything on her brother, and disgusted by all the people calling him a murderer, and repulsed by all the people who just refused to listen…

“MAGGIE! What HAPPENED to you?” Amy demanded as she emerged from the swamp and stared at her sister. “Oh, not again…”

“I defended him, Amy,” Maggie said bitterly. She glanced down at her bruises—mostly on her arms, one on her stomach, one on each knee… And if she was honest with herself, she knew that her cheek was swelling up, too.

Amy put her hands on her hips. “You mean, you took a train to Jacksonville and started arguing with protesters, again,” she said. “Maggie, look at yourself! Oh, gosh. Come on, let’s get you into the swamp. Your cheek—does it hurt?”

“I’m fine,” Maggie said coolly.

“The heck you are!” Amy grabbed her sister’s hand and pulled her through the marsh grasses. “MOM! MOM, COME HERE!”

“Amy, don’t!” Maggie pleaded. “She’ll just get upset—“

“She should be upset! You should be upset!” Amy snapped. “You can’t keep doing this, Maggie. If Kermit knew—“

“If Kermit knew what, Amy? How much they hate him out there?” Maggie yelled, pointing out of the swamp. “Yes, if he knew that, it WOULD upset him. It DOES upset me and it SHOULD upset YOU!”

The soft, weary voice was like a punch to the gut. Maggie turned and found her mother standing there, staring at her… along with about half of her siblings, which didn’t really surprise her. Word traveled fast in the swamp. “Mom, I…”

Her voice faded as Mom the Frog stepped forward and lightly touched her un-bruised cheek, her eyes taking in the damage. “Why, Margaret?” she asked, her face full of pain. “Why do you do this?”

Maggie took a deep breath. No one ever wanted to argue with Mom the Frog. “If that’s what it takes, then yes!” She pointed out of the swamp again. “Something has to change out there, Mom! Someone has to make them listen!”

“It doesn’t have to be you,” Mom said quietly.

“Yes it does!” Maggie yelled. “He’s my BROTHER!”

“And he’s MY SON.” Mom tightly gripped her daughter’s arms, her face twisted with anguish. “How many of my children do I have to risk in this war, Margaret? How many?”

It hit her harder than any slap. Tears popped into Maggie’s eyes as she dropped her head. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry, Mom,” she sobbed, hugging her mother. “I’m so sorry… I just… I…”

Mom the Frog held her daughter tight. “Do you think I like it, Margaret?” she asked, tears trickling down her own cheeks now. “Do you think I like hearing what they say about my son? My son…” She set her head on Maggie’s shoulder, trembling. “All we can do is support him,” she whispered. “Support him as best we can… And if we have to be the ones to make his side heard, then… there has to be another way…”

The two of them cried together. Other pairs of arms wrapped around them, desperately trying to give the comfort that everyone in the swamp longed to have. Then more frogs came and wrapped their arms around those frogs, and more frogs came and held those frogs, too, until Maggie and Mom the Frog were in the middle of the biggest, tightest clump of frogs the swamp had ever seen.

Oh hurray for an update! I have missed your writing - heartwrenching as it is - I have really missed it. This was a difficult chapter, but I actually really liked the scene with Maggie and Mom - it would be just like Maggie to want to defend her brother and it is just like Mom to bring her back down to earth and remind her that they need to do it in a peaceful manner. And the last line - about the large clump, makes me think of the "clumps" you described in Flippersteps. Great chapter. Bring on some more!

Thank you dearest Toga for finally bumping your long-awaited fic. Don't think there's more that can be said regarding presenting two scenes of Frog's family coming together.
More please? *Leaves double-chocolate 5 cookie for the girl of triple minds.

After dinner that night, Dad the Frog found one of his sons sitting by himself, staring out at the pond.

In itself, that wasn’t an unusual thing for Noah. He was known for being the quietest of the the Frog siblings—the exact opposite of his talkative, incredibly active wife in almost every way. Even when he was tending to his daughter’s extensive needs and wants, Noah was notably stationary and quiet. But the dark, brooding look on his face was not a usual feature of his quietness, and that was why Dad the Frog came and sat beside his son at the edge of the pond.

“What are you thinking about, son?” Dad asked softly.

“Mom.”

No surprise there. Dad knew that his children hardly ever saw their parents cry, and they had seen their mother cry twice now in a short twenty-four hours. “She’ll be alright,” Dad said. “It’s a hard time for all of us.”

Noah stared at the ripples in the pond. He picked up a small stone and turned it over in his fingers—a rare show of restlessness. When he spoke, his voice was even quieter than usual. “I’d been thinking about enlisting.”

Dad nearly jumped right out of his own skin. He gripped his walking stick tight and stared at his son. “…You mean, in the military?” he whispered.

Noah nodded, his eyes still trained on the quiet pond ripples.

“Why?” Dad asked.

The stone flipped over in Noah’s palm. “Draft goes by birthday,” he said quietly. “Kermit was drafted. One of us should have gone, too.”

Dad shook his head. “Only one person is drafted per family,” he said.

“One per household,” Noah corrected. “One of us should have gone, too.”

Dad rubbed his head. “Noah…”

“I know.” Noah dropped the stone into his other hand and inspected it. “…Mom.”

“Not just Mom,” Dad said. “What about your wife, and your daughter? What would Ida and Roseanna do without you?”

Noah flipped the stone in his hand. “They’d have you.”

Dad sighed and shook his head. “Don’t do this, son,” he said, his knuckles white on his cane. “Have you talked to Ida about this?”

Noah tossed his stone, listened to the plop it made as it landed in the pond, and watched the ripples. “Not precisely, yet. But a little.” His hands settled on the ground. “I probably won’t go. But I thought… Our family is bigger than most. Seems like we could give more.”

Dad shook his head and wrapped his arm around his son’s shoulders. “It isn’t that simple,” he said, his voice worn and weary. “You know Kermit wouldn’t want you to go there.”

Kermit was quieter than usual for a few days after the suicide bomber incident. During those few days, The Eyes never reached their full intensity… but they were always watching him.

He didn’t know how his families would react to what he’d done. He wasn’t afraid of how they would react, nor was he exactly nervous… but waiting for the next mail call wasn’t going to be easy.

He claimed it was for the viewer’s sake, but it was really to distract himself from his own anxiety that he led Holt and the camera to the medical tent and started chatting with some of the doctors and nurses there.

The Corporal in charge of the medical unit nodded to a shell-shocked man with a bandage around his head. “Careful around that one,” he said quietly. “He's... edgy.”

Kermit glanced at the man in the hospital bed. “...From the head injury, sir?” he asked.

“Head injury's the least of his troubles, Frog,” the Corporal said.

Kermit took a second look at the face of the man in question. “...Child's Corps?” he said quietly.

The Corporal nodded grimly.

Kermit gulped softly. He glanced at his cameraman. “Holt—” He tilted his head towards the shell-shocked man and stepped towards the bed. He glanced at the chart to double-check the name, and then stepped closer. “Lester?” No response. “Private First Class Lester?”

Pfc. Lester slowly blinked. “Sir?” his voice shook.

Kermit took a deep breath, assessing the look on the man's face. “...First kill?” he said quietly.

Pfc. Lester turned and looked at him. “He was kid,” he said. “I— ...I've got a brother that age.”

Kermit sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. “Would your brother hold a gun to your head?” he asked quietly.

Lester shook his head. “But if these kids had a choice—”

“If they had a choice, sure,” Kermit said sullenly. “But is that before or after they were drafted in?”

Lester frowned down at the blanket. “What's the difference, sir?” he said darkly, shakily. “They're kids...”

“They're kids... before they're drafted,” Kermit said sadly. “Afterwards... they're trained to kill without thinking twice. You're in an American uniform, and that means you're the enemy. Before they're drafted, you might be a nice guy, but... not after.” He shook his head. “They're not really kids anymore. They don't know childhood. And as terrible as that is, sometimes we have to get through them to stop the people who do it to them. We've just gotta remember that.”

Lester looked at him darkly. “Is that how we're supposed to make ourselves feel good, sir?” he said thickly.

Kermit winced. “I don't know what it's supposed to do, Lester,” he said huskily. “There is no feeling good about any of this. It's guilt beyond guilt, and that's why they use it.”

Lester sank back against the bed. “...Sir?” he said after a bit. “We any better than them if we kill the kids they send out?”

Kermit sighed. “I don't know,” he said quietly. “Probably not, but... Is it any better of us to let them win, knowing what they do to the people here?”

The Marine looked at him sickly. “...Rock and a hard spot, sir.”

Kermit nodded. “...When did it happen?” he said softly. “Pretty recent?”

“This morning,” Lester whispered.

Kermit winced and nodded. “...You wanna talk about it?” he said softly. “Try to get it out of you?”

Lester shook his head. “I'd rather just forget about it,” he said, his voice soft and shaky.

Kermit bit his lip. Gee, but that sounded familiar. “Lester,” he said quietly. “There is no forgetting it.”

Fear struck the Marine’s eyes, and he looked at Kermit.

Kermit winced and looked at his cameraman. “Turn the camera off, Holt,” he said quietly.

Holt quickly clicked the camera off and let it hang by his side.

Kermit let out a heavy sigh. “There,” he said softly, and he turned to Pfc. Lester. “Let's talk.”

Lester nodded. “Thanks, sir,” he said quietly.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~​

When the next mail call finally came, Kermit received his stack of envelopes, sat down among his fellow soldiers without saying a word to any of them, and carefully read through each and every letter.

The men around him were celebrating. Pine had gotten a new picture of his now eighteen-month-old daughter, and Emerson was showing off his sister’s straight-A report card. Plank had good news, too: after over eighteen years of hard labor and barely making ends meet, his mother had found a less strenuous job with better pay, which gave him such a tangible sense of relief that he stretched out on the ground with his hands behind his head and grinned up at the sun as if he were on a tropical beach somewhere.

The camera observed all of this while Kermit quietly read his letters.

Geraldson put a hand on the frog’s back. “Well?” he said simply.

Kermit smiled up at his friend. “It’s soothing,” he said. “Comforting. Just to hear from them.”

Geraldson nodded and held up his own letter. “My mom says hello, by the way.”

“Aw, hi-ho, Ms. Geraldson.”

Geraldson chuckled. “I’ll pass it along,” he said.

Kermit returned to his own letters and traced the gold locket that hid under his uniform as he read them. In every single letter, his loved ones sent a renewed pledge of their support for him. None of them mentioned what he had done in that episode, but he knew they had seen it. He knew that was the reason they were reminding him that they loved him.

It was exactly what he needed.

But as he read the last letter, the calm feeling vanished. Towards the end of it, he jumped to his flippers in alarm, still staring at the note in his hands, reading and re-reading.

“Frog?” Larsen stepped closer. “Something wrong?”

“What is it?”

“Bad news?”

“Are you okay, Frog?”

Kermit didn’t answer right away, but his face looked drained as he carefully folded the letter and tucked it away. He glanced at the camera. “I… can’t really discuss the details, in front of the camera…”

Holt immediately pulled away from the viewfinder. “Should I turn it off, sir?”

“…No,” Kermit decided. “And don’t call me sir.” He looked around at his unit and carefully sat back down. “Guys… I wanna talk to you about something,” he said. “How would you feel… I mean…” He cleared his throat. “We all agree that what we’re doing here… it needs to be done. Right?”

“Yes,” Geraldson said firmly.

“Absolutely,” Larsen agreed. Many of the other men nodded.

“Right,” Kermit said quietly. “But would any of you want… any of your loved ones, to come here and do what we’re doing?”

“No.” Larsen’s answer was immediate, and he shook his head. “That’s the whole reason I enlisted. Scott and I… Well, you know how we grew up. We know a lot of languages. And the ones we don’t know, we pick up pretty quickly. The military wanted both of us, but…” Larsen rubbed the back of his neck. “We couldn’t do that to Mom and Pop. We agreed only one of us would enlist.”

“And Scott was going to, and you beat him to it,” Kermit said, remembering the story.

“I’d do it again in a heartbeat,” Larsen said fervently. “Besides, they need him at home. He teaches ESL and sign language. He’s teaching the teachers sign language.”

“What about the rest of your siblings?” Casper asked.

Larsen sat back and scowled as he thought about it. “…Julio might be able to take it, I guess,” he said. “But again—he’s doing important things on the home front. He’s a cop, and he works with kids a lot—” His voice suddenly caught and his chin trembled. He clenched his fists and squeezed his eyes shut to get ahold of himself. Someone patted his shoulder. “No,” he said firmly. “I wouldn’t want anyone in my family to be here.”

Emerson shook his head and rubbed his fist against his cheek as if he were trying to rub his freckles off. “The only one in my family who’s anywhere near the right age is my sister, and she’s still too young,” he said. “She’s in high school still… But even if she was old enough, I wouldn’t want her to come here. She’s got her own life she’s leading, going into science… This isn’t a part of where she’s going.”

“But if this was part of what she wanted to do,” Kermit pressed. “If it seemed even remotely reasonable for her to enlist… Would you want that?”

Emerson scowled.

Plank rubbed his thumb against his palm. “It’s really just me and Mama back home,” he said. “The only person in the right age range I can think of is my goody-two-shoes neighbor, and I just can’t see him in a uniform.”

“What about those guys you used to hang out with?” Larsen asked.

Plank shook his head. “They’re still in jail. And no. It wouldn’t do them no good to be here.”

“It’s just me and my mom, too,” Geraldson said, and he shook his head. “I can’t think of anyone I would want to come here.”

“Me neither,” Pine said, and he looked at the amphibian lance corporal. “What is it, Frog? Why are we talking about this?”

Kermit traced the locket under his uniform. “It’s interesting,” he said thoughtfully. “We all agree it has to be done… but we don’t want any of our loved ones to do it.”

“We don’t want any of our loved ones to be garbage collectors, either,” Emerson said. “But someone needs to pick up the trash.”

Kermit shook his head. “I don’t know if it’s as simple as that,” he said, and he looked at Geraldson. “Bob, you and I both needed to come back here.”

Geraldson ran his fingers through his hair. “We wouldn’t have felt that need if we hadn’t already been here before,” he said. “But I get what you’re saying, Frog. What if someone we loved realized they needed to come here and do something.”

Kermit nodded grimly. “Exactly,” he said, and he put his hand on the pocket his newest letters were in.

Larsen sighed and put his hands on his hips. “I wouldn’t be happy about it,” he said, and he scowled at the ground. “But I guess I could understand,” he said quietly. “I would be supportive.”

“Well, of course, any of us would be supportive,” Emerson said quickly.

“Of course,” Kermit said, and although his voice was firm, the rest of him was wistful and reluctant.

... A cliffhanger? From Lisa? We needs to know who wrote that letter that has Kermit spooked and talking about reasons for having come back to the warfront.
I'm rully touched by how Kermit connected with Lester and the tact to ask Bolt to turn off the camera so they could really talk about the trauma they're facing because of the child corps.

So excited that one of my fave stories is back and I got to read two new updates...

having everyone at home watch the suicide bomber segment was rough...powerful...but rough...Thank goodness for Piggy putting it into perspective-she always knows that her frog has to play the hero, and often.

Gee. Gee Miss Lisa. It's 12:58, I'm sitting in bed listening to my family snore, with tears streaming down my face. I just read the first part...Scooter, Miss Piggy, Fozzie and Rowlf...Kermit, were all...amazing, as usual. Now I'm gonna get caught up on the other bits...oh wow....

You are a master... there is absolutely no denying that. I'm sure I've mentioned this elsewhere, but just seeing the way that you can create a scene of back-and-forth dialogue between a slew of characters straight from your own head... that's such an insane talent and I'm so amazed by you ever time I read, dear Half. Oh... right, I'm the funny one. Umm...

Mayhap, perchance, fopish that I am, I might be the Scarlet Pumpernickel?

I am in no place to make demands, I know, as a new member. Juvenile and naive, I take what I am given patiently and try hard to catch up with the years of experience from older Muppet fans. However, that being said, PLEASE OH PLEASE POST MORE SOON MISS LISA!! I cried very hard...in a good way...over this story and Half The Stairs Are Missing, so if you could do more on either it would seriously make my day/week/Christmas. Thanks! >obliviously pretends that did any good<

<Giggles!> Oh, I love new members, just learning how to nag... Rest assured, I have every intention of putting some more work in on this story very, very soon. Heck, the only reason I haven't done so until now is that I've been out of town, visiting some friends, indoctrinating them with a proper love of the Muppets... I can't begin to tell you how proud I was of my friend when she saw/heard Marvin Suggs for the first time and said, "So... is that Frank Oz?" Ah, yes, it was a very good weekend.

Now... what was I saying? Oh! Oh yes. I was opening that one document, and that other document, and seeing what I can do about making this adorable new member's day/week/Christmas.

AAHH! Miss Lisa replied to my thread!! >gasp< >faints< I...I mean, uh...it's about time! Hope you had a good trip! And I know the feeling of new friends and the Muppets. I'm taking two newbies out to see it this weekend. I'm going to have to bite my lip real hard not to be like "Loo,k look! That's Wayne and Wanda! And Nigel! And that whatnot who sang the opening song in episode 14 of season 3!!" But actually, I had a very smiley moment yesterday at class when a 12 year old kid (who must have known I was a Muppet freak somehow ) walks up and goes "Hey, do you know what that giant blue monster's name is?" He had just seen the movie, and was asking about Thog. Jason Segel, you rock! Ok, I'll stop taking up your thread now. Hopefully you'll be doing that for me from now on??